SHALL I MISS IT
by Dorit Oliver Wolff
And there it is so beautiful and I keep on starring at it, and I know it is dead. I expect and hope it will suddenly get up and live again. It is still quiet but so beautiful. How can it be dead? I know I have to bury it. The funeral has been announced long ago, I know it is long overdue and yet I cannot part from it. It is mine. For the last 20 years every day come rain come shine it was there and so was I.
I dressed it in most beautiful exciting colours and lavished it with exotic jewels, silk scarfs, the latest fashion collections from Paris, Rome, London, silk and lace, satin and velvet, leather and fur,
No expense was too much. The glitter, the glamour, soft music, the Aahs the Oohs all this has come to an end. And I must now bury my beautiful world of fantasy and fashion, for it has been killed!
Executed by the economy and the recession, the greed and extortion of the banking system. Part of me will be buried with this beautiful corpse, which I have created, it has been dead for some time, only the funeral has been somewhat delayed.
What will I do now? Twenty years of my life has come to a premature death. How easy it rolls of people’s tongues: “ don’t worry, you ‘re in good company, you are not alone, 50 thousand businesses are going under in the south of England this year. Keep your chin up. It could be worse. There is no shame or stigma attached to going under. You are in good company. Things could get worse! “
But from where I am standing I cannot see the funny side of it and I don’t particularly want to join such “good company”. Not just yet, not ever …
I feel as if all what is happening is not happening to me. I am only an onlooker, and I have imagined this all. I feel detached and numb. Tomorrow the shop will open and it will be full of customers and again I will sell, sell, sell. And the ringing sound of the till will not stop. I will be able to pay the rent to the landlord, the rates, well done Dorit! We knew things are not all that grim. But deep down in my heart I knew it is dead and it is time to let go. Perhaps I will learn new ways. Do I mourn or jubilate? The pain of loosing is so heavy and I must move on. A glimmer of hope, a flicker of joy … getting rid of this endless hassle, bills, threatening phone calls, county judgements, overdue bills, unpaid VAT, faulty deliveries, unreliable staff, shop lifters – who needs this, not I, will I miss it? Well, yes! ALWAYS.